Aftershock
by starlabsforever
Summary: Caitlin was all water and ice- cool indifference and icy temperance. Cisco was fiery passion and blindingly bright hope. Now without Caitlin's cool counterpoint to control him, he was burning up. He didn't really care if he burned out. Cisco should be grieving, but he's not. Instead, he's in something far beyond denial, searching feverishly and hoping fiercely. Set after 3x18


When Dante died, Cisco grieved. His heart froze over and he shut off, shut down. He pulled away from his friends and became a harder, angrier version of himself.

With Caitlin, it was different. He had already suffered a loss. Instead of shutting off, he burned.

He had always run hot, just like Caitlin always ran cold. She was always lecturing him about being dehydrated and he was always telling her she should get checked for Raynaud's. That was what they did; they took care of each other. It was just so intrinsic to their relationship. They had created a sort of protective bubble around themselves, one that was only big enough for the two of them, and that was because they shared a bond that nobody else on the team did. Team Flash, the team they had built, was close-knit, and they all depended on each other, but Caitlin and Cisco shared a separate, tighter bond. They had known Dr. Wells- Thawne -before anyone else had, and Wells was what started it all. If this was Team Flash, Cisco and Caitlin were Team Star Labs- the only surviving members. Now that he was the only surviving one, he felt empty and lost. There was a whole part of his life- memories, inside jokes, dormant feelings -that no longer had a place to go.

Cisco loved fiercely. He felt everything at 100%. That meant that when he lost, he fell, hard. Caitlin was all water and ice- cool indifference and icy temperance. Cisco was fiery passion and blindingly bright hope. Now without Caitlin's cool counterpoint to control him, he was burning up. He didn't really care if he burned _out._

That would be a welcome reprieve.

* * *

Four days after Caitlin's accident _,_ he had probably slept four hours. He had always been a restless sleeper, and since his powers started manifesting, the condition had worsened into chronic insomnia. Now with the pain of loss weighing heavy on his shoulders, sleep was a laughable pipe dream, but he didn't say a word to the others. Not because he didn't want them to worry- he didn't really care. He just didn't want them harassing him to take care of himself. Only Caitlin was allowed to do that.

For the first four days, he was glued to the thermoscanner, scanning and triangulating over and over again, trying to locate her uniquely intense ultraviolet cold signature. After he struck out three nights in a row, he knew it was a lost cause, but she was not, because he wouldn't allow that to happen. He just needed to change tactics. Instead of hoping she would come to them, he had to go to her.  
That was why he was walking down Main Street at one in the morning in 30 degree weather. The wind blew right through his hoodie, but he didn't care. He ran hot anyway.

Cisco arrived in front of the dark, deserted windows of Jitters. He used a miniscule blast to loosen the door handle and stepped inside.

She wasn't there. Of course she wasn't there. Caitlin spent the least time in Jitters of any of them. She usually kept the coffee maker in the break room full, and she wasn't one for socializing or overpriced pastries. Still, it was worth a shot. He opened a breach in front of him and hopped to his next location.

She wasn't at Central Subs either, or in Lafayette Park, where they spent many a lunch break talking and investigating food trucks. The AMC and the waterfront were also strikes. He wanted to keep going, but he was dead on his feet, and if someone found him passed out in the road, that would be a pretty obvious sign that he wasn't sleeping. He breached back to his apartment and headed to his bedroom without turning the lights on. He changed into sweats, and even though he wasn't planning on sleeping, laid down on top of the covers.

Maybe Caitlin didn't want to be found, but if that was the case, what was she doing? They hadn't heard any news of anyone being frozen to death, which was why Cisco was convinced that she was still herself and not Killer Frost. Killer Frost was bloodthirsty and loved an audience. It didn't make any sense.

He felt his hairs stand up on end as a cold draft blew in. He stood up and went to close the window, but it was already closed. His stomach twisted into a giant knot and he turned to face the direction of the cold gust. He heard the softest noise that sounded like somebody breathing.

"Caitlin?" he asked, his voice shaking as he called out into the darkness, but there was no reply.

* * *

"It doesn't make any sense," he said to Barry and Julian the next morning. "Killer Frost wouldn't stay hiding for this long. It's four days and nothing has happened. Not even a blip on the thermoscanner, let alone a murder."

"As far as we can tell," Barry pointed out. "Our scanner only covers Central. She could have gone anywhere. Remember, the last time she was Killer Frost, she said she would leave-"

"That was different," Cisco interrupted. "It was. Every time we've seen Killer Frost since then, she's wanted nothing but to hurt us. And when you-" he jabbed an accusatory finger at Julian, who ducked his head. "-took that necklace off, you took her reins off and let Killer Frost take control."

"I was trying to save her life," Julian interjected weakly, but Cisco waved a hand.

"It doesn't matter. My point is, it doesn't make any sense that she's avoiding us. It conflicts with every Killer Frost we've ever seen so far."

"What are you saying?" Barry asked cautiously.

"She's still in there." Barry sighed and Julian pressed a hand against his forehead. Cisco crossed his arms. "Come on, it makes sense, you have to admit. She's hiding somewhere because she doesn't want to hurt anyone, because she's _still Caitlin._ "

"What makes sense," Barry said gently, "is that you're grieving."

"I'm not," Cisco snapped. He wasn't. You grieved people who were conclusively dead, who were gone forever. People like Dante, who died in a car crash and had their mangled body to show for it. He couldn't grieve Caitlin, because that would mean she was gone.

Barry reached out to put a hand on Cisco's shoulder, but he twisted away violently. Barry stopped, clearly stung, and then exhaled. "Cisco, I'm sorry, but Caitlin died. You watched it happen. Her meta powers are what revived her body, but she's gone."

He felt frustration boiling up inside of him. "How do you know that? We haven't seen or heard from her since she left. All we know is that her actions, or lack thereof, make _no sense_ with Killer Frost's usual m.o."

"She tried to kill both of us when she woke up," Julian pointed out, and Cisco wanted to break his face, but he didn't.

"She wasn't trying to kill us, she was just- it was probably a visceral reaction, since her powers revived her body and she's full meta for the first time-"

"Exactly." Barry folded his arms. "She's full meta. Whenever Caitlin goes meta, Killer Frost takes over. We don't have any evidence to the contrary."

They were giving up. "How can you give up on her? We're heroes. We save people. We do the impossible, remember?"

"We tried," Barry argued.

"When?" Cisco exploded. "Maybe there's a reason she hasn't come back. Maybe she's scared. You can't just give up on her!"

"We haven't given up," Julian said in a strange, soft, wounded voice. "We're just trying to protect ourselves from false hope. That's what Caitlin would do."

He felt fire flare in his chest and he rounded on Julian. "You don't know her," he snapped. "You don't know anything. You don't deserve to be here, or talk about her, or-"

"Hey." Barry grabbed his shoulder and shoved him back gently. "Calm down. We've done what we can to look for Caitlin. If she turns up, we'll play it by ear. Maybe you're right," he added in the mollifying kind of voice you used to calm down an angry toddler.

They really didn't believe him. After all she had been through with them, how could they not give her the benefit of the doubt, even a little? Cisco felt cold all over and shook his head. "She's in there. I know she is."

Julian gave him a pitying look and Barry looked sad. Cisco turned around and walked away briskly.

* * *

That night, Cisco returned to his mental list of Places Caitlin Might Be. It occurred to him that this was a little illogical- if she was avoiding them so that they wouldn't get hurt, why would she visit places that they were likely to look for her? Then again, nobody else on the team had made much of an effort to look for her. Maybe she knew that the rest of them would give up on her, which meant that he _needed_ to find her. Proving Caitlin wrong was his favorite thing to do, and the stakes had never been so high.

Her favorite shoe store was no good, and neither was the mall. In what he thought was a stroke of brilliance, he checked her apartment, but it was empty and cold. He was about to head back home when he remembered he hadn't checked her lab yet- she never showed during the day, but maybe she was there at night. If she was still herself, she'd be doing everything she could to try to fix this, and all of her equipment and data was at her lab. He breached to Star Labs and entered through the hallway, in case she was lurking in there somewhere.

He took the elevator upstairs to the Cortex, where she also wasn't, and then went to her lab. As soon as he opened the door, he felt his heart stop in his chest and he couldn't breathe. He hadn't been in Caitlin's lab since before the accident, and clearly, neither had anyone else. Her lab coat was hanging on a hook near the door, next to her purse and her keycard on a lanyard. Everything on her desk was neatly arranged, nothing out of place except for a stack of _Medical Economics_ back issues. The whiteboard near the door had rows of her neat, compact writing, and he tried to read it, but the words blurred together. Her office chair- the nice, patent leather one that she always got mad at him for using as a futon -was pulled out from her desk at an angle. It hadn't been moved since the last time she got out of it. Everything in this lab had been last touched by her, and now after only four days it was collecting a tiny bit of dust. He felt a teary lump the size of a tennis ball forming in his throat. This was just like after Dante-

"Cisco?" He nearly jumped out of his skin and whipped around to see Iris standing in the doorway. Fully dressed, arms folded, and wearing that concerned facial expression that everyone wore around him and that made him want to throw a chair across the room.

"Hey." He tucked his hair behind his ear in a vain attempt to look casual. He realized, belatedly, that he'd been holding his breath since he entered the room. "What are you, uh, doing here?"

Iris gave him a skeptical look. "I was going to, uh, ask you the same thing," she said dryly. "I came here to see Barry off. He decided the middle of the night was a great time to go." Cisco stared at her blankly. "To the future. Barry's going to the future, remember?"

He vaguely recalled a conversation about the future the other day, but he had been completely zoned out. "Right," he said lamely. "Did he go?"

"Yup. And he asked me to keep an eye on the team while he was gone, which means-" she jabbed a finger at him. "-you. What are you doing here in the middle of the night?"

"Forgot my tablet," he said lamely.

She raised an eyebrow. "In Caitlin's lab?"

He ducked his head. There was nothing he could say that would yield a facial expression that wasn't pitying or concerned, and he hated both.

"You've been looking for her, haven't you?"

He looked up, surprised. "How'd you know?"

"Please. I'm an investigative journalist who practically grew up at the police precinct. Give me some credit."

Cisco folded his arms. "Are you going to tell me to stop?"

"I think someone should," she said. "I think Caitlin's still out there and she needs our help, but I just want to make sure that you're not just searching for her to fill a void." He looked away and she stepped sideways so that they were face to face again. "I know what grief looks like. I'm kind of an expert. I want to make sure you're not burning yourself up to light up the dark, you know?"

"I'm not," he said, without meeting her eyes, because that was the perfect description and it hurt to hear it said out loud.

She looked at him appraisingly. "How long have you been awake?"

"Uh..." He had spent most of the night last night traipsing across town, and hadn't slept even after that, and the morning before that he'd woken up early- "48 hours?" he said, calculating aloud, and then noticed the horrified expression on Iris's face.

"Okay. You are going home right now, and I am driving you."

He shook his head. "I can-" He stopped himself just short of saying breach. Everyone knew what happened if he used his powers too much, and he didn't want to give her any more cause for concern. "I can drive myself."

Iris raised an eyebrow and plucked up a marker from the nearby whiteboard. "Catch." She tossed at him and he barely reacted in time but still didn't grab it. "Yeah, that's what I thought. You're not fit to drive a car, or even, like, a golf cart. Let me drive you home."

He did not want to deal with this even a tiny bit. "Iris-"

"Let me drive you home," she repeated, more forcefully.

"Iris, please!" he shouted, and felt startled at his own aggression. He took a deep breath. "I'm an adult. I can take care of myself."

She shook her head. "I can see what you're doing to yourself. You're not okay. You shouldn't have to be alone like this." She paused. "I'm not sure why I'm the only one who realizes that."

He shrugged, feeling his anger simmer down to a dull pain. "Yeah, well, it makes sense. Seeing as we've already given up on one of our own. Some team we are."

The vitriol in his voice didn't seem to faze Iris. "I think everybody's still reeling. Everybody's grieving in their own way. We're all worried about Caitlin, but she isn't to any of us what she is to you." He swallowed hard on the big teary lump in his throat. "And I respect that, I do. You deserve your anger, you deserve your pain, but if you think Caitlin's really out there, you're no use to her as a basket case. Now." She held out her hand. "Keys."

He exhaled. "Fine." He handed her his keys and followed her to the doorway. She placed a hand on his shoulder, and then drew it back sharply. "Jeez, you're burning up. Are you feeling okay?"

He was. "Probably just dehydrated," he mumbled.

* * *

He was not just dehydrated, because an hour and three glasses of water later, he only felt worse. Iris wanted to take him to the hospital- "Is this normal? Are adults supposed to have fevers this high?" -but he got her off his back by telling her that this happened all the time. Which was true, but usually, he could count on Caitlin to know exactly what to do to help him feel better.

He stared at the ceiling, on top of his covers again. The sound of Iris's keyboard clicking in the background sounded like gunfire, amplified in his head. And he was so hot, it felt almost suffocating. He stood up and opened the window, releasing a gust of freezing cold air. The frigid wind burned against his already burning skin, but it was better than suffocating in heat. He threw himself back down on the bed and rolled over, but he couldn't sleep.

On one of these nights, he would usually have called or texted Caitlin by now. He didn't know what to do now that she wasn't here. It was nice of Iris to stay there with him, but it wasn't the same. It felt like she was doing it out of duty- somebody had to hold the team together. Caitlin took care of him because she wanted to, because that was how she showed him that he was important to her.

He rolled over and picked up his phone, and before he thought about what he was doing, he was scrolling through his old texts with Caitlin. The last text in the conversation was from Thursday morning- the morning that Kadabra attacked her. It was from him: **I'm stopping at Jitters, what do you want? Decaf?** The decaf part was a joke to provoke her into responding, but it hadn't worked, so he'd just gotten her exactly what she always got- two shots of espresso and absolutely no cream or sugar. He scrolled back farther, scanning their mundane conversations about coffee and lunch breaks and work. He paused randomly, pressing his finger against the screen to halt it. Three weeks ago, 11:39 PM.

Cisco: **You still up?**

Cait: **Yep. You okay?**

 **No. Can't sleep.**

 **Want me to come over?**

 **No.**

 **Want me to call you?**

 **Sure.**

There was a break in the conversation, presumably because she called him. He didn't really remember. The next text was from her, stamped an hour later:

 **I know we've been asking a lot from you lately. It's all to help Iris, and that is important, but your well-being is more important, okay? We already know what happens in the future. We don't need to revisit it so many times, especially if it's at your expense. If Barry or Wally or anyone else asks you again, tell them no.**

No response from him. Stamped five minutes later, from her:

 **Try to get some rest. Turn your phone off; that'll help. See you soon. Love you.**

He felt the teary lump swelling in his throat again and threw his phone face-down on the mattress. He turned his face into his pillow and breathed deeply, trying to quell the sobs that were rising in his throat.

So, this was what rock bottom felt like.

He was going to find her. He had to find her.

He wasn't sure what he would do if he couldn't.

* * *

He hadn't realized that he had fallen asleep, but he must have, because he woke up sometime later to the frigid wind in his face. It had gotten a hell of a lot colder since he left the window open. He rolled over and opened his eyes-

And his heart stopped in his chest.

A pair of azure eyes glowing in the dark, a foot away from his. The light of the streetlamps leaked through his blinds just enough to illuminate her face.

"Caitlin," he murmured. She didn't say a word, just stared at him.

He pushed himself upright. "Talk to me," he murmured. Her eyes just followed his. "Caitlin. I know you're in there." Staring into her eyes made him realize how empty and hollow they were. Maybe she wasn't in control, he realized, but that didn't mean she wasn't there. "Hey. It's me, Cisco. Your best friend?" He slowly inched over to the edge of the mattress and swung a leg over. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just-"

She reached out and pressed her hands against his forehead, and he was suddenly rendered paralyzed. He felt cold spiraling out from her fingertips, numbing his skin. He could feel his heartrate slowing and his eyelids felt so, so heavy.

Part of him- a lot of him, actually -wanted to embrace the cold that was enveloping his body. He felt as if he were falling asleep, and sleep was a rare commodity these days. He was so tired of fighting, so tired of living, so tired of being tired. He felt relaxed, pressed against his down mattress, cold numbing his body, her hands on his chest and her eyes staring into his-

Only those weren't Caitlin's eyes. Her eyes were brown, the color of hazelnuts, the color of milk chocolate, not the color of antifreeze. He had to bring her back, and as tired as he was, he couldn't do that if he succumbed to the cold. His leg was still hanging over the edge of his bed, so with all the strength he could muster, he kicked his nightstand, _hard,_ and knocked the whole thing over. The lamp, the alarm clock and the glass of water all smashed against the floor with a spectacular _shatter_ and _thunk._ She turned her head quickly, but didn't move her hands. The cold intensified, and he could feel his strength leaving him.

"Please don't do this," he mumbled weakly. "Why are you doing this?"

Her eyes locked with his, and for an attosecond, he thought he saw them flash brown. Then the bedroom door flew open and light flooded the room. Iris looked wild-eyed and disoriented, but froze when she saw what was happening.

"You sick bitch," she yelled, and charged toward them. Caitlin jumped off of the bed and leapt through his open window. Iris raced after her, but the footsteps clattering on his fire escape were too rapid. She sighed and turned back around.

"Cisco," she breathed, and rushed to his side. He felt her hand on his forehead. "You're frozen, oh my-" She pressed two fingers against his neck. "Say something!"

He was cold, so, so, cold. It was a comforting contrast to the raging heat that he'd felt for the last few days. "Caitlin," he murmured, and closed his eyes, exhausted.

* * *

Cisco woke up in the med bay. He was instantly aware that he was wearing an oxygen tube and that there was a heating blanket wrapped around him.

"You're awake," Iris's voice said above him. "Bar! Get in here."

 _Zip, whoosh,_ and Barry was at his side. Cisco vaguely wondered why Barry was back so soon, and then remembered the confusing ETAs of time travelers. Thinking about time travel made his head hurt, so he quickly stopped thinking about it.

"Hey, bro," Barry said softly. "How do you feel?"

"Cold," Cisco mumbled.

Barry and Iris didn't laugh. Julian appeared in the doorway a few seconds behind Barry. He looked relieved for a second, but then folded his arms and shuttered his expression.

"Thank goodness you're okay," Barry said, and squeezed his shoulder. "Looks like you got there just in time, Iris."

"She bloody well did," Julian commented from the doorway. "His body temperature wasn't too low, but it slowed his heart rate quite a bit. I reckon she got there in the nick of time."

"I think he was running a fever," Iris supplied. "Could that have anything to do with it?"

Julian nodded. "Raised body temperature means that it would take longer for her to lower it to a dangerous temperature. Sounds like that fever saved your life, mate."

"Saved my life," he murmured, and sat up straight. Caitlin's hands weren't around his neck or over his heart, they were on his forehead… his hot, burning forehead… and she didn't freeze him instantly or blast him with ice, which would have been easier, instead she was just lowering his body temperature a little bit…

"I think she was helping me," he blurted out. There was a beat of silence and puzzled expressions, so he plowed on. "Caitlin always takes care of me when I get sick. She always brings me medicine and stuff and makes sure I'm comfortable. She could have frozen me right away, but she didn't. What if she was trying to help me? What if she was bringing my fever down on purpose?"

Julian was the first to break the silence. "You're grasping at straws, mate."

Barry nodded. "Killer Frost doesn't care about helping people."

Their blindness infuriated him. "But Caitlin does, she's a doctor. She's hiding from us because, I don't know, maybe because she can't control her powers, but she's still her, that's why she helped me."

"She didn't help you, she tried to kill you," Iris spoke up. "I saw her, Cisco. She was going to freeze you to death. You were barely conscious by the time I got to you."

He shook his head blindly. "No," he said. "No. She's still in there. I know she is."

"Cisco-" Barry said wearily.

"I know she is," he repeated, and turned onto his side so that he didn't have to look at any of them.

* * *

A couple hours later, Julian cleared him to go home, but Barry insisted on flashing him there. When he opened the door to his apartment, he was greeted by a rush of cold air, and looked around for Caitlin until he realized that the bedroom window was still open.

He laid down on his bed, feeling all kinds of weak and worn out and angry. At least when Dante died, there was a body, there was a funeral, there was an end. No-one could deny that he was gone. There was no slither of hope that he might come back. Dante was dead; that's what happens when your car gets totaled by a drunk driver at 95 MPH. As sick as it was, at least he had a conclusion.

Here he had no conclusion. Caitlin was alive, or maybe she wasn't. The only thing that kept her alive was his hope, and that was such a heavy burden to bear.

He buried his face in his pillow and finally, finally cried.

There was a sharp buzzing sound that made him jump and he realized it was just his phone. He groped around for it and turned the screen on, expecting to see a text from Barry or Iris, but neither of their names were displayed on his screen.

 _Cait._

His hands shook as he unlocked his phone. **Are you okay?**

He stared at it, heart pounding in his ears. It had to be a joke. Somebody stole her phone, or…

But something burned under his breastbone, and he felt himself heating up from the inside out again. His hope kept her alive.

He wrote back the only thing on his mind: **Where are you?**

Two minutes later, a response. **Cisco, don't try to find me. I'm sorry, but you have to promise that you won't look for me. Please.**

He set his phone down. The syntax was hers to a T. If someone was pranking him, they were doing a damn good job.

He no longer felt cold. His skin was burning again.

* * *

When Dante died, his heart froze over.

Losing Caitlin was different than losing Dante, because he knows he hasn't lost her. Not really, not yet.

Caitlin is not gone. That's why he's not frozen, but on fire.

He stands on the roof of Star Labs, on a concrete block on the edge of the building. He can see the entire city from up here. He comes here every morning and every night, goggles in hand, with the hope that he'll be able to see her, to see _something._

He can feel his heart burning up and flaring and sparking and releasing light. He's burning up, burning fast, until he explodes and turns into something else entirely. Maybe he already has.

He's going to find her. He's got to find her.

Hope is like the sun, but Cisco is a supernova. He lights up the whole universe with his determination and hope, but he's also burning fast. That's okay. He has to burn to find her. He burns up, and his light and heat will thaw through the layers of ice.

"I'm coming for you, Cait," he murmurs. "I will find you."

He will burn through the night and light his own way in the dark. He will keep burning until that light leads him to Caitlin Snow.


End file.
